"The people? Sounds like you've been burned more than once," remarked Claire. Of course, she herself had been burned more than once, but her last relationship with Hahona had been the worst. Not long before they had been due to marry, Claire had literally discovered him in bed with one of her bridesmaids, and that had been that. There was no forgiveness for infidelity in her mind, and she had tossed him out of their flat in the Henderson Valley. In the three years since then, she had barely even dated, and never got past the first date. She twitched her eyebrows up as he explained who Rupert was. "You have a bloody butler," exclaimed Claire, not quite believing what she was hearing. Sure, she knew Adam was wealthy, but he hadn't seemed like the kind of bloke who would have had a butler.

Claire noted that Adam seemed inordinately interested in her description of how the kapa haka worked, which, from a pākeha, seemed strange. However, it wasn't unwelcome. "Usually, at least once a month or so, but it differs," she explained. "It's nothing on the Rotorua shows, though. We're just a bunch of amateurs." Sure, they were good, but they only did it for the love of it, and for the tradition. She blushed as she noticed his gaze move to her arms. Her hand reluctantly left his, in order to hike up the sleeve of her tee, and she turned to show her right shoulder to him. "All of this has meaning, explains my family story," she said, giving him a soft smile, clearly proud of it.

She couldn't help but laugh, albeit somewhat embarrassedly, as Adam replied to her quips about how they would get to know one another. "I've heard anticipation is good for first dates," she replied, her voice soft. "And sometimes second and thirds..." She had absolutely no intention of sleeping with Adam Pierson that night, no matter how well they were getting on, and how much she fancied him. She hadn't anticipated this, though.

Claire shivered lightly as Adam moved closer, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured to her. The shiver was followed with a snort, then a giggle, and any last trace of nerves that she might have been feeling dissipated as she burst into laughter. "Apparently so," she laughed, shaking her head, before leaning in and letting her lips lightly dust Adam's ear. "Maybe, though, there are more pleasurable subjects of conversation for a first date," she breathed. "I'm a bit out of practice, though, so you might need to lead..."

"Everyone, literally everyone. I don't care how clever and casual they seem otherwise, the moment the smoothest man on earth falls in love, he is flailing on the inside. The moment the most frivilous woman falls in love, she will plan every moment to the molecular level." He'd observed, he'd learned, and he'd self-assessed and knew this information to be true. Or at least that's how he sounded. "And yes, I have been. But life is not tried, it is merely survived, if you try standing outside the fire." She was from New Zealand, he felt that was safe to say. "Yes, I know, but he insisted. I like to think of him as more of a roommate of fastidious nature."

Adam looked not at all concerned with how her group compared to another. That may well be, but the Rotorua doesn't have you. And there's something to be said for enthusiastic amateurs. Professionals sometimes grow jaded in their mastery." Methos recalled several wars in which enthusiastic amateurs overcame larger, better equipped, professional forces. And that was not to mention the number of elder Immortals who lost their heads to relative children. Hell, he'd seen a barely seasoned Immortal bring down two of his fellow Ancients, though the poor bloke had been deprived of both Quickenings through the proximity of other Ancients. "Hm, I read quite a few languages but I fear this one escapes me... you wouldn't happen to be able to teach such a thing, would you." He was openly examining the tattoo but politely keeping his hands to himself.

"Well, of course. Though, like with any good thing, it can be carried too far I find things work best when we only do what we are comfortable doing." An even handed way of saying she wasn't expected to do anything but what she fully wished to do, but he wanted her to know. Fair and square. Then he whispered in her ear and got her reaction and grinned like the cat that got the canary. "Oh ho, a giggle. I think it's working." He chuckled and listened attentively as she suggested there were other subjects that would please her more and that he should set about sorting them. "Indeed... how about something mildly poetic." He leaned in again, looking her from chin to hairline before settling on her eyes. "The eyes are one of the most powerful tools a woman can have. With one look, she can relay the most intimate message. After the connection is made, words cease to exist."

There we went again, sounding older than his years, and Claire was once more perplexed by Adam. There seemed to be an inner wisdom there, something deeper than his age would ordinarily allow for. It was almost intoxicating, drawing her in, making her want to know more about this strange young man who had impulsively invited her on a date only minutes after meeting. "Maybe you're right," she replied, her voice low and teasing. "About the men, anyway. But maybe it's the planning that breaks a woman." All the stresses and strains of planning a wedding to Hahona had certainly taken its toll on Claire, and she had hated herself for it. She would have been happy running off and getting married on a beach, barefoot and carefree, but Hahona had wanted the ceremony and pomp of a traditional wedding. "Who'd you nick that lyric from," she laughed. She might be wrong, but it sounded like something from a cheesy song. "Any you have a butler because... Rupert insisted?" Her voice was doubtful, and an eyebrow twitched up to match.

Claire's cheeks flushed as Adam's flirting dialled up a notch, and she found herself wondering what exactly he was looking for out of this date. If it was a quick roll in the hay, he could forget it. She wasn't looking for a one night stand. She didn't know what she was looking for with him, though, it was too soon to tell for that. She did know that she didn't want a one nighter, though. That just wasn't her style. "I'll be sure to let you know when we're next performing," she replied, almost surprised to find herself meaning it. Observing Adam as his eyes traced her tattoo, Claire cast her eyes downwards for a moment. "You're right, it is a language of sorts. And yes, I could probably teach you. But... not here. It would be easier to teach you with a little source material at hand." She didn't acknowledge what else might be dancing around behind that statement.

She felt her stomach clench as Adam mused on hiw far anticipation should be pushed. It was a very clear signal that he wasn't going to push her, would let her dictate the pace, and she involuntarily bit down on her bottom lip for just a moment. Plunging onwards would lead down an irrevocable path, and one that she was unsure whether she was ready for.

But were you ever ready to trust someone to not break your heart?

Adam remarked on her giggle, and Claire was about to respond, but she wasn't given the chance. He caught her eye for a moment, and she was unable to tear her gaze away as Adam's eyes travelled up her face, seemingly taking in every detail, before locking his eyes on hers, and refusing to look away. She couldn't have broken that connection if she tried, and she felt that attraction ripple through her once more. Finally, and with a sharp, quiet intake of breath, her cheeks flaming, Claire looked away. "I... I think I need some air," she said, her voice quiet and shaky, and she stood, her knees almost as wobbly as her voice. She hadn't even had a drink, and yet she felt utterly intoxicated. After a moment, she looked back to Adam, a shy smile on her lips. "Want to join me?"

Adam chuckled indulgently as she allowed for him to be right, with conditions. He'd learned that was about as close as most women were willing to get to saying a man was right about something anyway, in the modern age. "Maybe it is, and not hard to imagine either. That kind of planning requires the architect to guess at what people will do well ahead of time and... well, there are few things in this world as frustrating as trying to guess what people will do when they have time to think about it or are in mixed groups." Homogonized groups were much easier, like armies. Particularly if you were familiar with the commander on duty at the moment of influence. "Garth Brooks." Then he sighed at the topic of his butler. "Yes, vehemently. I've left him in two varitable paradises with enough money to live out his remaining years like a king only for him to spend said money tracking me down and relocating himself to my home or the nearest structure appropriate to the presence of a butler. By chartered private jet, both times. The man is dogged, not foolish. He seems to think I'll let my everything run to ruin if I don't have a moderating influence in my life or that I might starve if I don't have someone to remind me when supper is being served."

Rupert was good people, he was glad he'd met him and his mother all those decades ago.

"Oh my, are you inviting me to... the library?" He sounded positively scandalized, putting on a little act of having to fan himself at the very idea before his smile broke out again, just like that venting whatever sexual tension they had been over-pressurizing. "I'm always keen to learn a new language, or nearly anything else. It's amazing how quickly new knowledge, of the sort that can be appreciated through a basic understanding, can be run through." He liked to think of himself as a Renaissance man, and not merely because he'd been there and met some of the men who's sheer existence gave the term it's meaning.

Adam pushed his chair out and stood, offering an elbow. "Why, my dear, I would be delighted."

Claire smiled softly, shaking her head. "I'm - hopefully - more the spontaneous type," she admitted. "Been there with the whole planning thing. A wedding, in fact. Hated it." She stopped abruptly, her cheeks colouring up. Talking about her failed engagement was a shitty thing to do on a first date. She couldn't even blame it on alcohol, seeing as she hadn't had a drop. Maybe lack of food, as she hadn't eaten since midday. Or she could be letting her mouth run away with her. Probably the latter. "Sorry, not something you need to hear." She shot Adam a rueful smile. It may be a conversation for the future, but she filed it away for now.

She laughed at Adam's admission that he'd swiped lyrics from a country singer. "You know, you don't strike me as a country music fan," she said, her voice ringing with laughter. "I guess it takes all sorts." It wasn't her cup of tea, but she could understand why others might like it. Claire cocked her head as Adam explained a little more about Rupert. "Sounds like an interesting dynamic there," she remarked. "Why does he think you so incapable?" Adam struck her as more than capable, in fact, if a little whimsical or eccentric. Certainly not the type to let things fall apart around himself.

Claire could feel the excitement, long suppressed, fizzing in her stomach, but the fizzing was dispelled in a moment as Adam made a joke of everything. He was more than a little hard to read, and Claire was somewhat disconcerted at that. She was very much a people person, and prided herself on being able to read others; after all, that was a large part of her job. Adam, however, was extremely inscrutable. Still she laughed at his joke, shaking her head. "If you want to call it that, I suppose so," she grinned, letting him make of that what he wished. Still, if he wanted to learn the meaning of her tattoo, she was happy to teach him, once they knew one another better.

And then she had to go and break the mood. It wasn't air that she needed, so much as distance. However, much as she might need it, she didn't want distance. She wanted him to agree to come outside with her, whatever that meant. Claire didn't expect Adam to offer his arm, though, and she hesitated for a few seconds before slipping her arm through his, and wending their way out of the increasingly busy bar. The evening air was welcoming, and Claire took a big gulp as they stepped outside, knowing full well that she should take a step or two away from Adam.

But she didn't.

"Sorry, it was getting a little... hot in there," she said, her voice soft and husky, and Claire locked eyes with Adam. "I'm not very good at this dating thing, as you may have noticed."

"Nothing to apologize for, my dear. I was rather already under the impression you'd lived a full life before I can wandering in." Too many people forgot other people were struggling along too. Meeting, falling in love, falling out of love, making and breaking wedding plans, mourning the wasted time or the failure of the relationship, before healing and moving on. Or not. People were difficult to predict when they had time to think about it, and after a break up most people had nothing but time on their hands. "But wanting to plot a different course is a natural reaction to such an experience." Humanity was... capable of that, though they tended to flub it if the lesson weren't in living memory.

He chuckled, briefly. "I'm an every kind of music fan... except Opera." Mostly because every form of music had its time in the world, and he'd been there for everything after beating rocks together in a rhythm. "The classic artists, all the way up to the late 90's, were superb storytellers. And nobody can say it doesn't take skill to play a steel guitar or a banjo." He chuckled. "You could say he and I are almost like father and son, after a long life of harsh realities he thinks me a bit of a dreamer. It's the nature of... family... to watch out for each other. He's just a bit over protective." Or fascinated, not an unusual reaction in mortals who knew that Immortals existed. They were drawn to the awe of it, the timelessness of the Immortal acting like a flame for a moth. Rupert was handling it better than most did in their twilight years. There was no jealousy or envy. If nothing else, he'd achieved a certain Immortality of his own by being persistent enough that Methos had added two whole pages about the boy and man to his own Chronicle.

He smiled, his eyes turning into half-moons as she indulged his little joke. Things remained easy between them, the suggestion still in the air but without any sort of expectation behind it. No pressure, just opportunity. They made their way outside and he patted her hand where it lay upon his arm as she apparently chose to stay close by. "There, feeling better?" He grinned when she searched for a word and landed on 'hot'. "It certainly was," he agreed companionably. "Good or not, you have me absolutely charmed I assure you." He made steady eye contact and held it to put his full weight behind the observation.

For someone so young, Adam used an archaic turn of phrase every now and then. Perhaps that could be down to him being a stereotypical eccentric Englishman - if his accent was anything to go on - or maybe it was something else altogether. Who knew? "I wouldn't call it a full life," she admitted, shrugging lightly. "A busy one, sure, but not necessarily full." Sometimes, busy as she was, she felt there was something missing, and couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Still, she didn't have the time to think about it all that often. It was only at rare times like this that her mind even dared to stray there.

Claire smiled slightly. "I don't think it's so much plotting a different course, she said, pausing slightly. "More like... once bitten, twice shy." She had been hurt, and badly, and didn't feel much like putting her heart back on the line any more. Of course, she hadn't banked on fancying the arse off a man who had to be ten years younger than she was, but that was beside the point.

She twitched an eyebrow upwards. "Except opera," repeated Claire, with a wry smile. She never could stomach it either. "I know what you mean, though. Lyrics aren't what they used to be, are they?" Some of her favourite songs from the 80s and 90s had incredible, poetic lyrics. Now, it was all about drivel such as "who run the world? Girls" and bollocks like that. Claire despaired of music, sometimes.

She listened as Adam talked about Rupert, the fondness showing through in his words and tone. It sounded as though the older man had made a big impact on him, for Adam to consider Rupert as something of a father figure. Claire's eyes were teasing, matching the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "And are you," she asked. "A dreamer, I mean?" She didn't think he was a dreamer - she didn't get that sort of vibe for him. If anything, he came across as practical, and more of a doer than a dreamer.

Claire let the evening air cool her flushed skin, and she smiled as Adam asked whether she felt better. "Not exactly," she admitted, still not stepping away from him, even though she knew that was the only way she would be able to steady herself. Adam's presence was heady, leaving her almost giddy, and, if she were to admit it to herself, she kind of liked it. She blushed, though, as Adam kept eye contact, his gaze never wavering, and assured her she had charmed him. "Well, that's one thing I don't have to worry about, I guess," she grinned, finally unlooping her arm from his, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air, the salt tang from the nearby ocean tickling the back of her throat. Cocking her head to one side, she turned back to Adam, her expression curious.

"So... how old are you, Adam," she asked. She had to know, so she could process the fact she was on a date with a man who was probably a good ten years younger than she was.